


f

by Serjeant_Yeelirrie



Category: Metallica
Genre: Don't Examine This Too Closely, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-12-30 08:40:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18312116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serjeant_Yeelirrie/pseuds/Serjeant_Yeelirrie
Summary: Hazel eyes starred deep into green ones. Not in a romantic way. Not in a friendly way. Only in a way that was filled to the brim with hate.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a nice December morning. But it was boring. Well, for the time being. Later at night, they had a gig at the local club. That was pretty much the only thing they were lookin forward to. They were excited to share new material with fans and regular club goers. Well... sharing new face melting riffs and getting a smudge more popular. By no means did they want to be sellouts, just recognized. Anyways, as time crept by slowly, everyone found something to keep them entertained. Strangely... Lars was alone in the usually lively living room. He had a pencil in hand and his old English studies notebook in the other. He decided to revisit an ancient hobby of his. Horribly written English sentences and cartoon characters were littered the back of the page he was drawing on. He didn't have any set idea in mind, just whatever came to mind. Lars wanted to drown out the sound of the clock's ticking. So, he gently hummed an unknown melody to himself. First, he drew a sharp oval. The typical tutorial way to draw.

After a while of mindless sketching, Lars stopped to fully inspect the drawing. It came out looking like a demon. Not entirely by choice. It had a long, narrow face and thin eyes. Completely opposite of what Lars looked like. He then continued. The sound of humming and a HB pencil gliding over paper filled the empty room. His friends were all doing something or other to keep themselves busy to make the afternoon go by faster. Lars switched the positions of his legs, It was probably the 25th time he'd done it today. It was a tic / habit of his. He yawned and looked down at the lined page. _Looks like fucking shit... Ugh._ Lars thought to himself. He grabbed the notebook then shut it. The notebook was worn, but it still retained the same design. Lars also put the pencil on the notebook as he put it onto the carpeted floor. He kicked his socked feet on top of the brown, low-level coffee table. He closed his eyes in thought, his mind wandering. Random thoughts such as _I wonder what the crowd is going to be like. I hope no one breaks a string like last time. And hopefully it's not hot in there..._ As fast as those thoughts came, they left. 

Lars had fallen fast asleep. All was quiet. His rest was peaceful and great. Lars shifted in the sunken cushions. His hair became messy and tangled. Light snores arose. Then, the main door opened. He looked inside, eyes landing on Lars, who was fast asleep. He took gentle steps, in order not wake him, but his weight made the floor creak. But this didn't bother Lars. He stopped in front of the brown coffee table. A plan brewing in his mind. A terrible one. 


	2. f

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not done   
> nor is it good

Dave nudged Lars' leg with his own foot. He held the beer bottle tightly in his right hand. "Hey. Lars..." He nudged again. No response. Dave tried again. Louder. "Lars... hey." Lars groaned lightly. Dave leaned in closer. _"Waaa~aake up Laaa~aarsie."_ Another shift. Dave took a sip and placed his drink on the coffee table, He unbuckled his leather belt sloppily. He took it into both hands. He snapped the belt. Such a noticeable noise. " ** _HEY! LARS! WHY CAN'T YOU FUCKING WAKE UP?! ARE YOU DEAD YOU RETARD?!_** " He kicked Lars' leg. Lars let out a pained noise. "W-wh-!" As Lars opened his light sensitive eyes. Without warning, the belt slashed across his chest. The loud _slaapp!_ seemed to echo and the pain spread throughout his chest. Dave grabbed a fistful of Lars' wrinkled black shirt. He dropped the belt on the couch. He slapped Lars with his free hand. "I heard all about your plans with James after tonight's gig. You two aren't sneaky." Lars was in shock. Dave was obviously pissed. He had that look in his eyes. Dave pulled him closer. Lars could hear his heavy breaths. Anger and fear were the only emotions felt. 

Dave bit his lip. He pushed Lars back onto the couch. Lars' hair covered his tear stained face. "It fucking annoys me to know that you two are totally doing it while Cliff and I are gone." Dave began to unzip his pants. "Lucky little shit." He grumbled. Lars raised his hands and tucked in some of his hair behind his ear. He looked straight forward and went wide-eyed. "D-dave. No. Please d-don't." Lars felt frozen. Dave was actually doing it; rubbing himself in front of Lars.

★★ Lars was hot from the sweat that dripped from his face and neck. Lars' breathing was labored and his chest rose and fell erratically. Hot tears began to well up in his eyes. "J-ju..." He wrapped his arms around his torso and started to hug himself. Dave pulled him off, he collapsed on the floor. "Just leave me alone...!" His usually tough nature had disappeared, as always when this event occured. Tears flowed freely. It was clockwork. It started one day when Dave had overheard Lars and James talk about where they should go for their first date. Ever since Dave had seen James, he was madly in love with him. Yet, James fell in love with Lars. So of course Dave would be upset. Now, Lars was just Dave's punching bag for the time being. Dave starred down at Lars, who was of course tired and red. Red welts covered his arms. Small bruises and cuts littered his small chest. Lars' normally well kept hair was messy and sticking to his face. Dave picked up the bottle again. He took another swig from the glass bottle of alcohol. Dave snorted. "What the fuck does James see in you anyways? Just 'cus you have the most feminine figure here?" He drank again and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. They starred at each other for a moment. Tormented green eyes starring up at half lidded hazel ones. Dave contemplated for a brief moment then chucked the bottle at Lars. They weren't too close nor too far away, but the bottle still collided with Lars and left pain. "Ngh!" His hands covered his tender scalp after the collision. Dave said nothing. He walked away as he slipped his belt back into his jean's holes. The buckling, footsteps, and sobs were the only noises in the room. Dave finished and opened then slammed the door. Quiet, muffled sobs came from behind the door. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i guess dave's pov   
> not finished and too tired to do so right now lol   
>  its not good either way

_It's real fuckin' strange to think I've fallen head over heels for one of my good buddies. It started out as just admiration, then it blossomed into something bigger. I know it's normal for emotions and relationships to grow rapidly. But actually, to be honest, it's quite embrrassing. I can't help it at all! It's so fucking ridiculous... But no matter what I do or say, I know he has feelings for someone else. And I keep trying to interfere with that. Why can't I get that through my thick skull? I mean, I'd rather live in ignorant bliss than to feel confused. That's what makes all of this shit so damn hard to understand! It's pure bullshit. I wish James would quit being so admirable. His awkward smile is worth 1 million bucks, his handsome yet cute face, his attitude and personality, and his musical talents... Ugh! Just thinking about him makes the butterflies flutter in my stomach and my heartbeat faster. But then I think of myself. Unattractive appearance, nasty personality, mediocre at music in general, and jealous attitude. Who'd even have feelings for an ass like me? I'll tell you who... NOBODY AT ALL! I compare myself to Lars and just cringe. I have no idea what James sees in him anyways._


End file.
